


B99 Holiday Prompts

by Colourcodedbinders



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, But end up asking the other out, I'm Sorry, In which Jake and Amy always seem to start off being irritated at each other, So its allz good, Typos, so many typos
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2019-02-18 07:34:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13095411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Colourcodedbinders/pseuds/Colourcodedbinders
Summary: A bunch of holiday prompts (mostly aus) because I have no self-control





	1. The best way to spread Christmas cheer is to sing loud for all to hear

**Author's Note:**

> 1- IT'S THREE IN THE MORNING PLEASE STOP CAROLING au
> 
> Not proofread or even read, really. I just kind of typed it in one shot. We'll see how this goes.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every year, since the day Amy was born, Christmas Eve has been a constant, a wonderful, well-deserved break from the constant effort that being an NYPD Detective requires. 
> 
> Every year except this one.
> 
> And the fact that she's pretty sure she can hear two goats having sex outside her apartment building really isn't helping to improve her sour mood.

Christmas Eve has always been Amy's favorite time of year. Ever since she was a little girl, Amy's always patiently waited for the evening of December 24th, when all of her aunts, uncles, and cousins would come around and share some of Camila's wonderful food while they sat around the abnormally large dining table and laughed at pretty much anything they could think of.

Every year, since the day Amy was born, Christmas Eve has been a constant, a wonderful, well-deserved break from the constant effort that being an NYPD Detective requires. 

Every year except this one.

And the fact that she's pretty sure she can hear two goats having sex outside her apartment building really isn't helping to improve her sour mood.

She'd been asked to spend the holiday at the precinct, working on some case her dumb Sergeant had sworn was linked to some kind of drug ring. (News flash: it was not. It was a very, very straightforward robbery case. The niece did it.)

By the time Amy had gotten home after filing in all her paperwork, it was way too late to drive down to Jersey, and so began Amy Santiago's longest Christmas Eve yet.

Right outside her window, the strange goat-like noise rings again. 

Amy tries to ignore the weird sounds and places a pillow on her head in hopes of blocking out some of the ruckus. She has no idea what sane person (or goat) would be out shrieking like that at the ungodly hour of three in the morning, and to be quite honest, she has no interest in finding out.

It's enough torture to have to spend the holidays away from your family with nothing but your DVR and some day old Polish takeout. Something wailing outside her building in the middle of the night was not a necessary addition to her already shitty day. It really wasn't.

Amy tries to ignore the wailing and tightly shuts her eyes, willing herself to fall asleep. 

Of course, sleep never comes, and the yelling never stops.

The detective lies there for another ten minutes or so, selfishly hoping that a truck would come by and run whoever was making that awful noise over already, but when no miracle truck appears, Amy decides that she'll take matters into her own hands.

Either she'll shut these idiots up or she'll die trying. She can already see the headlines:

HEROIC COP COLLAPSES AFTER CONFRONTING JERKS WHO HAVE CLEARLY NEVER HEARD OF NOISE POLLUTION - OR GOATS IN THE MIDST OF INTERCOURSE. (EXACT NATURE OF PERPETRATORS STILL REMAINS A MYSTERY.)

She slips her boots and jacket on on top of her pyjamas, grabbing her keys off of their hook in a hurry and running down the stairs. 

When she finally opens the building's front door, expecting to come face-to-face with a bunch of drunk, brawling middle-aged men, she is surprised to see that there are, in fact, no drunk idiots kicking each other on the street. 

Instead, there are two (it seems) sober idiots... Singing. Or trying to, really.

They're both men, one in an extremely over-the-top fur jacket and the other wearing a leather jacket on top of a hoodie, and they've both got their eyes closed as they yell out the lyrics to "Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer".

"Hey!" Amy yells, only to be ignored.

"Hey, bozos!"

The taller of the two men stops singing and opens his eyes as he turns to face her. He lets out a wide grin as their gazes meet.

"We're caroling, come join!" he says, capturing his partner's attention. The shorter, slightly older-looking man turns to look at her as well, before reaching his arm out as an invitation.

"Of course! Help us spread the holiday cheer!"

"It's three in the morning! Everyone's asleep."

"Exactly. That's less singing competition for us," the man in the leather jacket explains matter-of-factly, as if Amy should've known this already.

"It also means less people listening."

The man laughs and takes a small step towards her, leaning a little closer before whisper-yelling: "Good. Because I don't know if you can tell, but Charles here is a horrible singer."

The other man - Charles - brings his hand up to man One's shoulders and beams at him.

"It's okay, Jake. No one cares if you're a bad caroler. The best way to spread Christmas cheer and to sing loud for all to hear!"

"He's also been watching a lot of movies this past week," Jake says to her then.

"Okay, well - Um, I'm going to need for you two to maybe tone it down a little? People are trying to sleep.

"You seem to be wide awake, officer."

"How do you know I'm a cop?" Amy asks, her hand instinctively going to reach for the gun at her hip before she remembers that she's in her nightwear.

"You're wearing an NYPD t-shirt," he points out, gesturing to where Amy hasn't zipped her jacket up. "So either you're a cop or some insane cop enthusiast. And not many people are enthusiastic about us lonely law enforcers, so..."

"Fine. I'm a cop. You guys too?"

"Yep."

He flashes his badge at her and smiles. "And I assure you that caroling on Christmas Eve is entirely legal."

"Technically, it's Christmas Day, now."

"At least you won't deny that our singing is entirely within the measures of the law."

Somewhere next to them, Charles gasps. "I hear wedding bells, Jakey. The chemistry is unbelievable between you two."

"Charles I'm gonna need you to not do that, okay?"

"You got it, man."

Amy rolls her eyes at the duo, her annoyance dissipating somewhere into the night.

"Alright," she finally says to them, "Keep caroling."

"Very legally caroling."

"Very legally caroling," she repeats after Jake, "but could you please keep the noise down? People are sleeping."

"You wanna join in?"

"What?"

Jake and Charles look at her with anticipation as Charles repeats his question.

"Do you want to join us..."

"Amy."

"Right. Amy. Sing with us! It'll be fun! Jake and I do it all the time."

"And how many of those times have you had someone chase you with a bat?"

"Only four times," Jake proudly exclaims.

"No, thank you. You guys enjoy, I'll be heading back home."

She smiles at them and turns around, making her way back inside the building. She walks up to the elevators, and only as the doors are about to close does she notice Jake running in after her.

"Oh, um," he starts as she steps out of the metal box, "Do you mind, uh, you know, giving me your number? In case we need an extra caroler."

"In case you need an extra caroler?" 

"Or if you want to watch a movie with me. Or have dinner. Whatever."

Amy smirks.

"Is this how you flirt?"

Jake's eyebrows rise up and he opens his mouth, only to change his mind and shut it right after. 

Amy extends a hand towards him. When he eyes her palm like it's about to explode for about half a minute without doing anything, she laughs.

"Hand me your phone, idiot. I'm giving you my number."

He eagerly complies, and nods at her before beginning to walk away once she's typed in her information. 

"Merry Christmas!" she calls out to his back.

"Happy Chanukah!" he fires back with a grin.

"Chanukah was four days ago."

He stops walking around and turns around so that he's fully facing her again.

"Maybe the real Chanukah was inside us all along."

"What?" 

"Nothing. I said nothing. I hang around Charles too much. I'll text you!"

And with that, the caroling cop with the leather jacket, horrible singing voice, and surprisingly addictive laugh turns around and walks away, joining his friend outside.

Amy's still smiling when she's back up in her bedroom, a quick glance out the window confirming that her musical companions have left, leaving the street beneath her silent and unperturbed.

Amy doesn't feel the satisfaction she should.

She gets ready to pull the covers off her bed when her phone buzzes with a video attachment from Jake. 

"Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, had a very shiny nose..." the wailing voices sing, and with quick "Goodnight, Jake," typed up, a stupid children's song stuck in her head, and a bright smile plastered onto her face, Amy Santiago goes to bed.

Not too bad, for her first Christmas Eve alone.


	2. Snow Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snow is Amy Santiago's _thing. ___
> 
> __  
> _What isn't so much Amy's thing is having a cold, hard ball of compact snow being flung at her face by a complete stranger._  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2- You hit me with a snowball and I want to be mad at you but you’re kinda cute and - oh shit I’m flirting.

Amy Santiago knows snow. Amy Santiago understands snow. She’s grown up spending unpredictable New Jersey winters with seven immature, extremely competitive, snowball fight-loving brothers. She’s had snowballs pelted at her from every direction, at any time, given any circumstance. She’s been tackled countless times into large, powdery snow banks on her back from school. She’s had to shovel her parents’ driveway over a the holidays a couple of times, as well.

Snow is Amy Santiago’s _thing. ___

__What isn’t so much Amy’s thing is having a cold, hard ball of compact snow being flung at her face by a complete stranger._ _

__What drives her a little higher up the wall is that said stranger, who turns out not to be a five year-old like she’d originally expected, but rather a grown, adult man, looks as if he has no intentions of apologizing._ _

__Oh no, Snow Boy over there is just hunched over in laughter, as if he’s heard some hilarious joke._ _

__Amy doesn’t have a clear sight of his face, and all that she can tell about the guy is that he _clearly _has no idea what he’s doing with his life. What kind of sane adult gets into snowball fights wearing a jacket that’s so tight it looks like it’s about to burst, and most importantly, _no gloves?____ _

______It’s like he’s begging to get sick._ _ _ _ _ _

______Snow Boy’s still laughing, going from bent over to straight-up falling on his ass as he’s still cracking up, meriting the attention of the five or six young boys around him, whom she assumes he was originally playing with._ _ _ _ _ _

______(Silently, she wonders which one of them the snowball that hit her was meant for.)_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Jake?” one of the younger boys says in concern, kneeling next to the man while Amy’s still too busy sending deathly glares his way._ _ _ _ _ _

______The man, _Jake _, presumably, manages to place a hand on the kid’s shoulder, face still hidden from Amy’s view as his entire body shakes with his laughter.___ _ _ _ _ _

________If Amy weren’t so pissed off at him, she’d point out that he’s got an extremely cute laugh - and an addictive one, too. The kind you wouldn’t mind hearing over and over again. The kind that almost sounds too beautiful to be simply just laughter. The kind that makes you want to laugh along with him, even if he’s just hit you with a snowball._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________But Amy _is _pissed off, and cute laugh or not, this guy is about to face her wrath.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________She nearly stomps over to him, hands balled into fists inside her jacket pockets, her face hot with anger, her stride purposeful and (she hopes) intimidating. Once he’s within reaching distance, Amy gently pushes the little boy out of the way, grabbing the intruder by the collar of his stupid black jacket and yanking him up so that his face is a mere few inches away from hers. His laughter dies almost immediately._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Amy smirks._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________The man smiles, then, grinning from ear to ear as his hands come up to take her hands off of his collar, but he doesn’t take a step back like she’d expected him to. Instead, he stays rooted in his spot, standing up straighter so that he’s looking down at her as opposed to straight on when she held him, and says, in a cheerful voice: “Hey!”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Hey?” she all but spits at him, “You throw a snowball at me, you _laugh _instead of apologizing, and when I come to confront you, you say ‘hey’?”___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“Would you prefer ‘hi’?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“Ugh, you jerk,” she mutters, turning away from him, “Rot in hell.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________She turns on her heels and walks away as fast as she can, tears prickling at her eyes already, when she hears the guy’s voice again, right behind her._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“Hey,” he says again, “I’m sorry. Turn around.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Amy keeps walking, ignoring the guy as she wills her eyes shut and speeds up her pace._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“Hey! I’m sorry,” he says again, and judging by the way his voice rings from further away, Amy assumes he’s stopped following her._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____________Well, at least he’s not a creep. ____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“Lady in the white jacket,” he yells again, “I wasn’t laughing at you!”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“Then what were you laughing at; yourself?!” she exclaims, turning around and angrily stomping towards him again. She stops when she’s within a foot from his body, and brings her right hand up to point a finger at his chest. “I’ve dealt with morons like you, alright? And you’re all the same. Make a mistake, laugh it off _because you obviously don’t care how you may have affected anyone else _, and then go back to doing whatever it is you were doing without even the slightest bit of remorse. It’s always the same. So don’t you even _dare _try to convince me that you weren’t laughing at me, dickhead.”_____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“Alright,” Snow Boy says, “I was laughing about the fact that I hit you with my snowball. But I wasn’t laughing _at you. _There’s a difference.”___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________Amy takes a step back, rolling her eyes._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________“Care to explain how?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________“Alright, picture this, lady: You’re at the coffee shop, drinking your latte or tea or whatever, and then suddenly this bunch of people dressed in fish costumes come in and serenade the boy sitting at the table next to yours by performing Psy’s ‘Gangnam Style’, dance and all, right as some dude walks in in a neon-pink colored tutu with a fruit basket on his head and a sign that says ‘Marry me, ya jag,’ -”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________He’s interrupted by Amy’s disbelieving snort._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____________________”Exactly,” _the guy says, nodding at her, “are you laughing at the poor guy sitting next to you, or are you laughing at _what’s happening to him? _”____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________“Alright, fine. But you still hit me with a snowball and laughed about it.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________“And I’m sorry about that. I’ve told you.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________Somewhere next to them, one of the boys yells._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________“Get a room, lovebirds!”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________“Zip it, Niko!” the man replies, his voice stern, but the smile on his face betrays all hints of potential hostility._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________The boy - Niko - laughs at that before bending over and taking a handful of snow into his purple gloves and pressing it into a neat, uniform sphere. It occurs to Amy that she should probably move away from Snow Boy, away from Niko’s ball’s trajectory, but before she can even manage to command her legs to make a move, Snow Boy’s in front of her, standing in front of her body like a human shield as the snow makes contact with his chest._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________“Sorry, Miss!” Niko yells out as three other boys begin pelting him with snowballs of their own, “I was aiming for Jake!”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________Jake turns around at flashes a grin at Amy._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________“See, we all have terrible aim,” he tells her, and he’s leaning down and pelting snow at the other boys before her mind can begin forming a reply._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________“Nikolaj Boyle,” Jake shouts, “prepare to die! And by die I mean get hit by my epic snowballs!”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________Amy’s not entirely sure what compels her to do so, but soon enough, she’s charging at the boys with snow between her own glove covered fingers, and a full-blown snow war has erupted._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________And, listen up, Amy Santiago is _crushing it. _Only seven minutes, she’s taken out three of the boys, and two of the girls that had decided to join them after Jake’s declaration of war. She and Jake had started out as teammates, but that ended fairly soon after Jake cockily claimed that were she on opposite ends with him, he’d wipe the floor with her. So she did what any self-respecting woman would do. She stood up, stared Jake right in the face, and said, loud and clear: “I, Amy Santiago, will wipe the floor with Jake’s ass in this snowball fight. _Every fighter for themself. _”_____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________She doesn’t know if Jake’s resulting grin was because he doesn’t believe or because riling her up had been his goal all along, but either way, it makes her heart flutter just a little._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________The war goes on for a total of fifteen minutes before everyone - aside from Jake and Amy, of course - are left being the only two standing soldiers._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________In front of her, crouched behind a makeshift snow wall similar to her own, Jake yells._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________“We need stakes on this thing, Santiago.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________“And what do you suggest?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________“Loser owes the winner a free favor.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________“Deal.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________It all seems to happen in slow motion after that. Jake steps out from behind his shelter and begins pelting her with snowballs, picking new ones up from behind his wall whenever he runs out of them. Amy does the same, aiming for his arms, his face, his chest, _anything. _The rules are simple. They must go on until one of them is on the ground and out of snowballs to throw. Amy’s got the advantage, being smaller, faster, and much more agile than Jake, but the bastard seems to be holding up pretty well, arms full of snow and gleeful laugh escaping his dry, pink lips.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________Three dozen snowballs and ten frozen fingertips later, Jake Peralta finally goes down. Granted, he _was _pushed down by Cagney and Lacey, Amy’s neighbor Terry’s twin daughters, but the point is that he’s down, and he’s lost.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________________“Take that, Snow Boy!” she exclaims, flailing her arms._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________________Jake jumps up, eyes narrowed and mouth parted in disbelief as he stomps over to the woman._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________________“That was cheating and you know it,” he whispers, coming over to stand a mere two feet away from Amy. “I demand a rematch.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________________“I won fair and square, Snow Boy.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________________“It’s _Jake. _”___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________________“Call yourself whatever you want. I win. You owe me a favor.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________________“Alright,” Jake sighs out, shaking his head. “Whatever. You gonna cash in your favor right now or are you going to wait for the perfect opportunity to inconvenience me?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________________“I’m cashing it in right now,” she determinedly says, receiving a quirked eyebrow from the man in front of her in response._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________________“Okay. What do you want from me?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________________“I’m asking you to come have dinner with me. 7 o’clock tonight. I’ll be behind that door over there,” she gestures to her house, “You think you’ll be able to do that?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________________A small smile forms on his face as he nods a little, eyes visibly widening._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________________“Yeah. Definitely. I can do that. Tonight. Yeah. I was going to ask you for your number. Coincidence, huh? 7 o’clock. Okay.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________________“Good. I’ll be waiting. Let’s hope your table manners are better than your aim.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________________And with that, Amy Santiago turns around and makes her way to her doorstep, a grin on her face, a light in her eyes, and an incessant fluttering in her heart that follows her wherever she goes from that moment forth._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _


	3. You can keep the sugar, Sugar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’s a knock on the door again. Jake doesn’t need to get up to know who it is.
> 
> His neighbor, Amy Santiago, has waltzed over to his front about six times in the past two days, knocking on his door with her adorable little hands and flashing him an apologetic smile before asking, every single time, if he has any sugar she can borrow. 
> 
> And look, Jake has absolutely nothing against a drop-dead gorgeous woman basically begging him to open the door on her, but this? This is overkill. Like, what is she even doing with all that sugar?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3 - This is the fourth time you’ve come to ask for sugar this week. How many cookies are you baking?
> 
> I ALTERED IT A LITTLE BIT BUT I HOPE IT'S STILL ALRIGHT. 
> 
> YES I AM AWARE THAT THE HOLIDAY SEASON IS WELL PAST AND GONE. NO I DO NOT CARE.
> 
> I apologize for the typos. I do. It's just - I can't proofread this right now, guys. I have a test to study for. (although if you do find a typos or something, just point it out to me and I'll fix it)

There’s a knock on the door again. Jake doesn’t need to get up to know who it is.

His neighbor, Amy Santiago, has waltzed over to his front about six times in the past two days, knocking on his door with her adorable little hands and flashing him an apologetic smile before asking, every single time, if he has any sugar she can borrow. 

And look, Jake has absolutely nothing against a pretty woman basically begging him to open the door on her, but this? This is overkill. Like, what is she even doing with all that sugar? 

He lazily swings his legs off of his grey polyester couch, not even bothering to fix his unruly short curls as he makes his way to the kitchen, opens his lowermost cabinet, and grabs a bag of granulated sugar before making his way to the front door.

She’s there, as expected, her gaze held low, either in shame or timidity - he isn’t quite sure, a small bowl in her outstretched golden brown hands. Her gaze snaps up to meet his when he decisively hands her a bagful of sugar, and she opens her mouth, perhaps to deny the offer, but he’s quick to cut her off.

“This is the seventh time you’ve come asking for sugar. Just take the whole bag and bring back whatever’s left over, okay?”

He nudges the bag in her direction once more, this time accompanied by a small smile and slight tilt of his head that he hopes comes off as encouraging, and Amy shyly takes it from him, mouthing a “thank you” as she turns to go back to her own apartment next door.

“Hey,” Jake calls out to his neighbor, “if you don’t mind me asking, um, what the hell are you using so much sugar to make?”

Her cheeks turn a light shade of pink and her eyes widen by just the fraction of a millimeter, the fingers of her free hand nervously playing with her golden doorknob as she answers. “I have a big family?”

“How big?”

“Two parents, seven brothers? And their families, obviously.”

“You have seven brothers,” he tries to ask, but the question comes out flat, sounding much more like an astonished statement (which, to be fair, it also kind of is.) Amy shrugs a little, as if to say “what can you do?” and turns her golden knob, pushing the entrance to her apartment open. 

The wooden door opens with a soft creak against the floor, and from within his neighbor’s residence comes an intoxicating mixture of scents that has Jake’s mouth watering. He can practically taste all the cinnamon, the chocolate, the vanilla, the - _what is that, oatmeal?_

____

__

“Did you make oatmeal cookies for the holidays?” he blurts out a little against his better judgement, nose crinkling and eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Who makes oatmeal cookies for the holidays?” 

“My dad likes them.” 

“Your dad sounds like a real barrel of laughs.” 

“He has his moments,” she defends. “He’s a cool guy.” 

“I bet.” 

Amy just rolls her eyes at him, the tiniest of smiles beginning to form on her lips. 

It’s then that Jake notices that she has _very _nice lips. It’s not like he hasn’t seen them before, of course he has - Amy’s been his neighbor for over two months now, after all, but it’s the first time since she’d moved in, her arms full of boxes nearly twice her size and a polite smile as she turned down his offer to help her, that he actually _looks at her.___

_____He’s always know she was pretty. Has thought so ever since he saw her the first time, trying to open her door with three boxes towered in her small arms, with her curt nod and polite “no thank you” at his offer to help her move in. He’s always liked the way she smiles, and the way her shiny, black hair seems to frame her face when he occasionally catches her with it let down, and the way her lips look when she says his name, always politely, even when he can tell she’s exhausted from work whenever they cross paths in the evening._ _ _ _ _

_____But this - seeing Amy with her fingers firmly gripping the top of his bag of sugar, a slight crease between her eyebrows as she stares at him, hair tied up in a messy ponytail and a soft, woolen grey sweater on her upper body, makes him want to punch himself in the face for not noticing how incredibly _gorgeous _his neighbor is.___ _ _ _ _

_______He remains lost in these very thoughts until Amy lightly punches him on the shoulder, calling his name._ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______“Are you going to answer my question, or are you going to stay zoned out like some kind of creep all day?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______“What question?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______“Do you want to come in?” she repeats with a smile, “You can eat a couple of cookies, if you want.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______A wide grin takes over his face, and he’s grabbing his keys off of his coffee table and pulling the door to his apartment shut behind him. “The day I say no to cookies is the day after my funeral.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______“Why the day after your funeral?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______“To make sure I’m well dead and six feet under.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _

* * *

_______The interior of Amy’s apartment looks exactly like the set of “Murder, She Wrote” is Jake’s first thought once he steps inside. The second is that the cookies smell even better from this close than they did from the hallway._ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______Amy leads him to the dining room and tells him to take a seat as she walks over to her kitchen counter, putting down the sugar before grabbing a pair of oven mitts and taking a tray of oddly shaped chocolate chip cookies out of the oven._ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______“What are these supposed to be?” he grimaces, picking one of the cookies up and scrutinizing it before carefully placing it back._ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______“Snowmen,” she says, “Except they keep expanding on me. I sort of gave up on trying to shape them.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______“It’s probably because you’re putting too much butter. Or sugar. Or butter and sugar,” he replies matter-of-factly, and she cocks her head at him in confusion. “Butter and sugar make cookies spread.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______“I did not know that.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______“It’s basic baking, Santiago.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______“This is my first time baking on my own.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______Jake’s eyes widen and he pushes his chair back a little, turning to face Amy fully as he puts both hands on her shoulders and shakes her a little. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You’re baking for a hundred people and _it’s your first time? _”___ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________“Yeah?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________The detective shakes his head and stands up, grabbing one of the cookies from the tray in front of him and taking a bite, chewing the thing nice and slow before turning to his neighbor. “They’re good, but good isn’t good enough for a thousand people. We need them to be great.” He then turns around and begins walking towards her kitchen, motioning for her to follow along. “Let’s go make ten thousand and thirty great cookies, Amy.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________And they do. Amy isn’t too sure why she lets him boss her around while they’re in there, or even why she let him in there in the first place - no one goes into her kitchen unless asked to, no one - but ultimately, she’s glad she did. Jake, as it turns out, is an incredible baker. He mixes the batter to perfect consistency, places the trays into the ovens, and pulls them out once they’re perfectly done, all without even once glancing at th recipe Amy’s had pulled onto her laptop for the past three hours. He manipulates himself around her kitchen like a pro, and even attempts at teaching her a thing or two before promising to come in and give her lessons at some later date when she has more free time. He’s fun to hang out with, she realizes, with his witty quips and dumb impressions, and she quite enjoys his company, even if he becomes excruciatingly irritating when she asks him to _please not lick raw batter. _____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

___________Unfortunately, time passes by quicker that she’d like it to, and there finally comes a time when Jake has to excuse himself from her apartment so that she can begin prepping the place to accommodate her large family._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

___________Their farewell is an awkward one, where neither of them actually want to part ways but isn’t able to vocalize that thought. They shake hands, cordially nodding at each other in the way that acquaintances do, and part ways. Jake goes to his apartment, shoots Charles a quick text, and turns his television on to Comedy Central._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

___________Nine hours later, just a little after one in the morning, Jake hears a knock at his front door._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

___________It’s nothing much, just three rhythmic, monotonous taps against the hard wood, and the man’s heart leaps in his chest a tad as he recognizes the knocking pattern he’s recently gotten familiar with and runs to go open the door._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

___________Behind it, standing under the dim yellow lights of their building’s corridor, is Amy Santiago. She’s the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, in her beautiful red dress and shiny black heels, her hair curling at her shoulders just slightly, and for a quick moment, Jake forgets that he’s being creepy and staring at her again._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

___________“Uh, hey. Amy.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

___________“Jake,” she says, her gaze faltering slightly as she shyly smiles and brings up both of her hands to push strands of hair from either side of her face behind her ears, and yep, he definitely has a crush. “I wanted to talk to you, and I heard the TV playing so I assumed you were up and - not that I was trying to listen to what was going on inside your apartment or anything. Gosh, I should have written this down.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

___________“Amy,” he interrupts. Softly placing a hand on her arm and slightly nodding, “calm down. My TV’s loud, I get it. What’s up?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

___________She inhales deeply, and, “So we’ve been neighbors for a while now, and, well - I’ve always found you good-looking - I mean - no - wait. I’ve had a crush on you for a while now? But we actually spent time together today and I realized that I really like spending time with you, and - _what are you staring at?” _____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____________“You think I’m good-looking.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____________“Not the point.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____________“But still a point. A very relevant point.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____________“I’m trying to deliver a romantic speech here and you’re making it incredibly hard not to just punch you in the stomach and walk away.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____________“Sorry. Carry on.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____________“Jake Peralta,” she says finally, “will you go out with me?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____________“Definitely,” he answers (as if there was any other option), and the way she smiles in response makes his heart melt a little. “So, uh, when?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____________“Is tomorrow too soon?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____________“You could say right now and I’d join you in my pjs.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____________“Tempting,” she jokes, laughing, before turning her attention back to her own place, which, Jake just seems to notice, still sounds like it’s full of people. With another deep breath, she walks forward and wraps him in a short, split-second hug and turns to join her family next door._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____________“Amy!” Jake calls after her._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____________“Hm?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____________“You can keep the bag of sugar I gave you, Sugar.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For my stressed out friend. I hope this makes you feel slightly better. Keep working on those notes, dorko.
> 
> And for Abie, who insisted I add a Double Tuck in here. I tried, Abie, I tried.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you didn't barf :)
> 
> Leave a comment or hit me up at colourcodedbinders on tumblr!


End file.
